


Forgiveness

by MickyRC



Series: Sunshine [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Gen, Injury Recovery, Past Violence, Serial Killer Gabriel (Good Omens), The Author Regrets Nothing, also my italics use is back where it normally is, detective beelzebub, fair warning, i'm sorry i tried, looooooots of italics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-13 11:37:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21243470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MickyRC/pseuds/MickyRC
Summary: They steeled themselves outside the door.  Not the door to the interview room; the outer door, the one that lead into the observation room.  They knew, logically, that Gabriel couldn’t see them through the two-way mirror.  Their fight or flight instincts were not convinced.The Messenger may be in custody, but his followers are still at large.  Worse, they've kidnapped Detectives Volante and Crowley's best source of information.  And to top it all off?  It's starting to look like the Great Plan has barely begun.





	Forgiveness

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Sick](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20051470) by [missymisery](https://archiveofourown.org/users/missymisery/pseuds/missymisery). 

> Hey you know what's super cool? You guys reading and commenting on the first part! It absolutely made my day every time I got a message! You're all the best, thank you so much.
> 
> I don't have any serious warnings for this part, which makes me think I'm forgetting something, so please, if there's anything in here you think I should tag, TELL ME.
> 
> Also, I'd love to hear what you guys think is going on. I'm really proud of some of the suspense I've done in here, but the only way to know if it's working is to hear from you. Cool, that's all I've got. Have fun!

Winter in London was never warm, but it had rarely been so cold. The wind seemed to have jumped from early October bluster, with more force than chill, right to late January blasts, sharper than a knife and colder, too. It was barely December, and already it was simply miserable to be outside, regardless of how thick your coat, or how long your scarf, or how low you pulled your hat.

What Baile wouldn’t give to be sitting in traffic instead of standing at a bus stop. But their car was still in lock-up, would be for the foreseeable future, since Forensics was convinced there had to be some kind of evidence in it. Convinced might not be the best word. Desperate, more like.

Baile decided to walk up and down the block, just to keep their feet from freezing to the pavement. Up past the plexiglass shelter to the street corner, then back around and—

The wind surged again, deafening Baile and tearing at the flyers taped to the light post. The face on the top one grinned out at them like its owner never had, a grainy black and white picture Baile knew would never help anyone find Eddie Hartman.

They trudged back to the bus stop, barely registering the next blast of cold. They’d been avoiding the flyers for weeks. The Eddie in those pictures had been missing a good while before Baile had ever met her, the bobbed hair grown out to her shoulders, the contact lenses and makeup set aside, the grin taken by worry and determination. And the left ear, well, that was just taken. The detective had seen other glimmers of this younger Eddie since her kidnapping, in a stack of poetry books in her apartment, or a childhood photo in her parent’s home. Eddie, like everyone on earth, had left gaps behind her. Her parents were getting frantic, her sister was getting back into therapy, her brother was getting into bad relationships, and her friends were getting missing posters printed.

Baile Volante was getting frustrated.

***

They steeled themselves outside the door. Not the door to the interview room; the outer door, the one that lead into the observation room. They knew, logically, that Gabriel couldn’t see them through the two-way mirror. Their fight or flight instincts were not convinced.

“Alone today, Bee?” the man handcuffed to the table asked, and they didn’t even register the awful pet-name anymore. “I hope Anthony isn’t unwell?” he continued, neatly styled hair shining in the stark light hanging over the table. How he managed to look so put together after six weeks in a cell was some kind of miracle. How he managed to get under people’s skin so fast was another.

Baile, to his well-veiled annoyance, was more immune to him than most by now. It came from four years of seeing exactly what those manicured hands were capable of.

“Where are your followers?” they asked, right into business. Hands folded on the table. Eyes straight ahead. Don’t be the first to break eye contact.

Gabriel tilted his head to one side, forehead folding in a perfect model of concern. “You aren’t looking so well, yourself, Bee. You’re not working too hard, are you?”

“Where—”

“You know, workplace stress is one of the biggest health concerns for people in your age group right now.”

“Where are—”

“You’re probably drinking too much coffee, too. That stuff’ll kill you.”

“Where. Are. Yo—”

“And getting enough exercise is soooo important, especially this time of year.”

“_Whe_—”

“We wouldn’t want you to start stagnating, now that you don’t have anyone to chase.”

Baile almost caught themselves. Hands flat on the table, feet planted on the floor, and their body half an inch off the chair. Ready to stand up and get any advantage they could over Gabriel, even if it was only a measly bit of height. Anyone else across the table, they could have passed it off as just shifting in their seat. Anyone else across the table, they wouldn’t have gotten rattled in the first place.

Gabriel’s smile was sweet and horrible, the shake of his head gentle and oh-so menacing. “Tsk, tsk, Detective,” said the killer. “Not losing our composure, are we? Not for little old me?”

They cursed him, and cursed themselves, and cursed the whole damn room. He hadn’t gotten under their skin so fast since they first started this. Gabriel knew he had trapped them, forced them into either admitting weakness or ignoring him, which he would never let go of. There was no good way out.

Then the door opened, unexpectedly. It had barely been five minutes. Usually they went for at least an hour.

“Detective Volante?” The kid on guard duty was peering around the door, carefully and deliberately avoiding Gabriel’s gaze. “There’s a call for you. Something important.”

Baile could have kissed her, if they were the type. Their rescuer, Officer Dagon, had her eyes on a detective’s desk, and if she was always on her game like this, Baile had no doubt she’d get one in no time.

They turned back to Gabriel, indulging themselves in a fake grimace and apologetic tone. “Too bad. Guess we’ll have to wait till tomorrow.”

They were gifted with the smallest look of distaste before he smoothed his face back out and tore it open in a grin. “What a shame.”

Baile did not hurry out of the room, having gotten their instincts back firmly under control. They were nearly out the door when Gabriel called after them.

“Do give my love to dear Mr. Fell, won’t you?”

The door slamming after them just covered the little shudder they could not suppress.

***

Crowley called while they were on their third mug of crappy office coffee, working their way through all the evidence again.

“’Ey, Beelz. ‘Ow’s it goib?” They never would have said anything to Gabriel, but Crowley was actually out sick. “Gob eddyfig?”

“You sound horrible,” Baile said by way of a greeting.

“I feew howwibuh.”

Suddenly there was an irritated shout from Crowley’s end, loud enough to be heard over the line. “Crowley! For goodness’ sake, dear, you need to stop working and get some rest!”

“I’b dot wokig,” Crowley lied, badly, to his concerned boyfriend.

To his credit and Baile’s everlasting amusement, Zira Fell was rarely fooled. “Who are you calling, then?”

After a very damning pause, Crowley finally managed, “My… mum?”

Baile fully cackled at that. Again to his credit, Zira not only didn’t laugh, but managed to be even more concerned than before. “My dear boy, are you feeling feverish? Here, let me see.”

“He’s not having fever dreams, Zira,” Baile called through the line. “You’re just dating a really bad liar.”

“Oi!”

“Oh, hello, Baile! I’m glad to hear it.”

Baile let themselves slip into what was almost a kind of smile. Their opinion of Mr. Fell had improved a great deal since Gabriel had finally been apprehended. While every paper in the city had printed pages and pages of material on the Messenger, only Zira’s article had put any focus on Eddie’s role in the affair, instead of sensationalizing her capture or relegating her to a sentence at the end. His determination to see the case to its end, including catching Hayley and the rest of Gabriel’s cult, hadn’t wavered once, even as the rest of the city celebrated and sat around waiting for the trial.

“You’d better keep a close eye on him, Zira. I’m counting on you to get him back on his feet for me.”

“I’m doing my best. He’s not a very good patient.”

“_Oi!_ No, no, you two awe nod awwowed to gag ub od me!”

“Have a good day, Baile.”

“You too. Get better, Crowley.”

“I hade ooh.”

They hung up with a last little chuckle, allowing themselves half a moment of glow before they had to shuck off the smile and turn back to the material on their desk.

There wasn’t much to go on. The Messenger’s cult had always been well hidden and quiet; no one had even known about it until Eddie had shown them her evidence a few weeks ago. And they were staying hidden, hadn’t made a peep even since their leader was arrested. Baile was sure Hayley had gone back to them, taking Eddie with her. There was no way she had managed to stay out of sight on her own, especially not with an unwilling passenger.

At first, the hope had been that Hayley would keep driving Baile’s car. She would be easy to track that way, Baile and Crowley could have been on her trail the first time she stopped for petrol. No such luck, though. Baile’s car had been found on the side of the road heading out of town, half a tank left and no sign of its passengers but a dark stain and some scuff marks on the backseat.

When the car failed them, they had to fall back on interrogating the Messenger himself. Crowley thought early on that the fact he hadn’t said anything helpful might be a good sign. It could mean his followers weren’t important to his Great Plan, that they didn’t matter enough for him to care. Baile had quickly corrected him. If his followers didn’t matter, he would be using their information to manipulate the detectives. The fact that he wasn’t even doing that meant that they still had a role to play. They may have caught the leader, but the followers could still cause a lot of damage as long as they were on the loose.

But, as horrible and manipulative Gabriel was, unless Forensics suddenly found a map or a code hidden in the car, he was their only source of information. So they went back, day after day, and sometimes they left feeling like they had accomplished something, only to have it dead end as soon as they followed up. Most of the time they didn’t even get that, just a sneaking, damp chill in their gut saying they’d done more for Gabriel than he’d done for them. Baile was almost a little jealous of Crowley, getting a few days away from the killer.

They shook that thought off. They didn’t actually begrudge Crowley his time. He wouldn’t even have taken it if they hadn’t forced him to, and he really did sound terrible over the phone. He’d have been worse than no use in the interview room in that state.

They decided they needed another coffee. Gabriel was starting to get into their head, and the only thing they could think of to flush him out was bitter caffeine.

There was, predictably, no coffee left in the office kitchen. A room full of overworked detectives tends to do that. With a sigh, Baile trekked up the hall towards the front office. Hastur was on reception duty right now, which meant there would be a full pot of coffee there strong enough to eat through solid rock. It would taste terrible, but, hey. Necessary sacrifices.

They hadn’t even reached the door when they heard raised voices from the lobby. Not exactly out of the ordinary for a police station, so they didn’t bother listening. At least, not until they heard their name.

“I’m sorry, you’re just going to have to wait.”

“I _will_ wait, but I _need to see Detective Volante or Detective Crowley_.”

“I can’t do that. You’ll just have to see whoever’s available.”

“Sir, _I will wait_, I’ll wait ages, I’ll stay here all night, but it _has to be them_.”

Baile pushed through the door. Hastur was arguing with a tall, ragged figure who was not dressed nearly warm enough to be outside in this harsh weather. There were mud stains all over their sneakers and a good way up their jeans, and their only protection from the cold was a fall windbreaker and a fraying knit hat pulled low over their ears.

“If you could tell me why you need—”

“Just—_please,_ just let me—”

“Look, I can’t do anything if you won’t—”

“It’s okay, Hastur.” Whoever this was, they were serious about seeing them, which (if they were just the littlest bit luckier than they had been their whole life,) might mean they had information about Eddie or the cult.

The person turned, their hair (which had suffered at least two bad dye jobs and an uneven trim) swinging across their shoulder blades. They squinted at Baile through thick plastic rimmed glasses, and the detective’s hunch was suddenly confirmed. This person most definitely had information about Eddie.

They turned to Hastur, putting their empty mug on the counter. “Is the conference room open?”

Hastur was not happy to have his battle ended so easily. “Yeah, but—”

“We’ll be in there, then.” Baile hurried the woman into the sparse room, making sure to lock the door behind them. There had to be a reason she hadn’t given her name at the desk; if she had, she wouldn’t have had to argue to see them. For whatever reason, Eddie didn’t want anyone else to know it was her.

“Are you okay?” Baile started. It wasn’t just a cursory question, either. Eddie was visibly shaking, whether from the cold or arguing with Hastur, they couldn’t say.

Eddie didn’t seem to have heard them. “You have to play along,” she said, her voice shaking as much as her body. “Okay? You have to play along with me or this won’t work, Baile, you _have_ to.”

“Okay. Okay, I will.” Baile took a careful step closer, peering through Eddie’s glasses to get a better look. Her pupils were blown, and the whites looked bloodshot, like she hadn’t slept for too long. She didn’t seem able to focus. “Are you okay?” the detective repeated. “What happened, how did you get here?”

“I took the car. The, the old one. The heater doesn’t work anymore.” Her face scrunched up in confusion. “Why is it still so cold?”

She tried to take a step and stumbled. Baile caught her by the arm and almost recoiled at how hot her skin was. “Eddie, you’re really warm. Here, let me….” She didn’t put up any fight when Baile reached over to push her hat back and feel her forehead. It was far too hot, and with the hat in a different position they could see that the skin of her left cheek and jaw was red and inflamed. “We need to get you to a hospital.”

Eddie seemed to come back for a moment, straightening up and pulling away. “No, no there’s not enough time. I have to—”

Baile grabbed her arm again, pulling her to face them. “Eddie, _you are burning up._ I think you’re in shock, we are going to the hospital.”

She looked like she was going to cry. “I _can’t_, Beelz, they can’t… they can’t….” Her eyes went glassy and she stumbled again, looking hurt and confused. Baile hooked an arm behind her shoulders and steered her out of the conference room, skirting the lobby by taking a side door. They managed to get Eddie into the passenger seat of a police cruiser, though the woman wasn’t even able to buckle her own seatbelt. Baile didn’t want to even think about her driving herself here in this state.

Baile called Crowley on the way to the hospital, but when he didn’t pick up, they didn’t try again. He probably wouldn’t be let very far into the hospital in his state anyway, and there wasn’t much point getting him riled up if he couldn’t do anything. Especially if he was finally getting some sleep.

Thankfully, Eddie was doing the same, dozing fitfully against the car window. Her breathing was steady, but it sounded almost ragged, and Baile pushed through a red light, the siren warning other cars away. They were no doctor, but they were trained in first aid and basic trauma care. This wasn’t a take-two-aspirin-and-call-me-in-the-morning kind of fever. This was a serious infection, and if it had been festering since Eddie’s ear had first been cut off, her chances of… her chances weren’t good.

Baile gritted their teeth and drove. They swung around a corner, and a grainy picture on a flyer, pale as a skull, smiled out at them as they went by.

***

“I told you to stop calling this number.”

“Give me another one and I will.”

“…what do you want.”

“You know, forgiveness is Her favorite virtue.”

“I’ll make a note of that.”

“Oh, well that’s wonderful! Just wonderful, you know, it really is _attitude_ that makes the biggest difference in self-improvement. I’m glad to hear you’re making an effort.”

There was a pause on the line, a deep, steadying breath. “Just tell me what you want me to do this time.”

“Oh, I’m just checking in, really. Just wanted to make sure everything’s going to plan. How’s it been?”

“I… I wouldn’t know.”

The voice was surprised. Or pretended to be. “You wouldn’t?”

“No. I haven’t been… involved, recently.”

“Hmm. See, that’s interesting, because that’s not what was supposed to happen. Not according to the Great Plan, at least.”

Tense silence.

“I hope you’re not having second thoughts. No, let me rephrase that.” A deep, considering breath, accompanied by shifting fabric. “I hope you’re not letting your second thoughts affect your decisions.” 

The tension leaked like a balloon with a pinhole, barely falling, then sinking away all at once with a faint _no._

“What was that?” Not smug. Just patronizing and horribly victorious.

And a little louder now. “No.”

“Good. I expect more the next time I call.”

“Of course.”

Click.

“No. Of course.”

***

The ER doctor was honestly a little confused.

“Not in a bad way, though,” she said hurriedly. Baile was pretty sure she was still in residency. “She’s gonna be fine, it’s just that the timeline you gave us doesn’t match up with what we’re seeing.”

“In what way?” they asked, feeling relief and letting it settle them back into work mode.

The doctor consulted her clipboard. “Well, if the wound was inflicted six weeks ago, and it was never properly seen to, the infection should be a lot worse than it is. It only looks a day or two old.”

Baile thought back to the state Eddie had been in at the station. “Are you telling me she wasn’t in shock?”

“Oh, no, she was definitely in shock,” the doctor said. “But it was probably more triggered by the cold than the infection itself.”

Baile nodded to themselves. Okay. That added a few questions to the list, but the situation could be worse. Could be a lot worse.

“Anyway, we’ve got her on antibiotics, which should take care of the infection in a couple days. She’s awake now, if you want to see her.” Baile agreed, and the young doctor walked them through the halls to Eddie’s room, but when the detective moved to open the door, she put a hand on their arm. “I—I know this is police business,” she said, pushing through the nervous light in her eye, “but stressing her out isn’t going to help anything right now. Just… please don’t undo what I’m trying to do, here.”

Baile looked at her for a moment, then nodded, letting a smile ghost across their face. “Don’t worry,” they said gently. “I don’t plan on it.” Then they pushed through the door into Eddie’s hospital room.

***

“No.”

“Baile—”

“_No,_ what—what the hell made you think I’d go along with this?”

“I _didn’t,_ Baile, that’s why I wasn’t planning to end up here.” Eddie was leaning forward over her legs, the florescent lighting flashing on her glasses, and Baile was pretty sure the only thing keeping her in the hospital bed was the IV in her arm. “It’s been too long already, but _I can still make this work_ if you _let_ me.”

Baile planted their feet. For once, they had the advantage of height, and though they usually didn’t need it, they weren’t going to throw away that edge. “Eddie, you are asking me to send you _back_ to your kidnappers. The ones we still don’t know anything about, who you think are plotting something, _with a serial killer_ who stayed off the radar for _four years._ These are the people who _cut off your ear._”

“They didn’t, though. He did.” She pointed towards the door. “The doctor told you the infection’s new, right? They were _taking care_ of it, Baile, they made sure it was healing right all the way up until a few days ago.”

They stared at her, unsure how much to say. “Do you realize how much that sounds like _textbook_ Stockholm syndrome?”

“_Yes,_” she said, too earnest to be lying. “Look.” She stared down at the bedsheets for a moment, clearly gathering her thoughts into the right words. Then she looked up again, and the intensity of her gaze might have been startling if Baile hadn’t seen it before, back in Zira Fell’s living room six long weeks ago.

“Something’s going to happen. Soon, I think, they’ve been ramping up the hours they meet and everything’s more tense. And they didn’t come up with it themselves, I know that much, this is still part of the Great Plan the Messenger’s always on about. They’re the ones carrying it out, but _he’s_ the one who planned it, and that means people are going to get hurt. You’ve been talking to him, right? Trying to figure out what’s going on? But he hasn’t said anything. Why wouldn’t he say anything unless something else was going to happen?” Baile never moved, didn’t change an inch of their facial expression, but Eddie had hit her mark. This was exactly what Baile thought was going on, too.

“So what do you think it is? This thing that’s going to get people hurt?”

Eddie shook her head, the sterile white bandages taped over her ear catching the light mutedly. “I don’t know. They keep me out of everything secret. That’s why the infection started, I think, since their meetings have been so long recently. Hayley’s spent so much time working she’s barely been to see me.”

“So we do a raid,” Baile pointed out. “You drove here from there, clearly you know where they are. We take a squad in, arrest everyone, grab all the evidence. You don’t need to go back into harm’s way.”

For the first time, Eddie looked surprised. “You really think it would be that easy?” she said quietly.

Baile absolutely did not, but that wasn’t the point. “Even if one or two of them escape, or take a few things with them, you said they’re all in one place, so—”

“Baile.” It was nearly a whisper, done up with ribbons of disbelief and faint horror. “Baile, they won’t try to escape. _They’ll burn it all._ Everything, they’d burn _everything_ if you got within a yard of the front door. There won’t _be_ any evidence to grab, or much of anyone left to arrest.”

“So—”

“So _nothing will change._ You can’t—they—they won’t be convicted without that evidence, he made sure of that, and they _know_ it. And even if some of them end up in, I don’t know, psychiatric wards or fucking outpatient therapy or something for, for being in a cult—"

“They’d get out eventually.” Those words were haunting, echoing a phrase Eddie herself had used to manipulate Hayley back in an abandoned church sanctuary. Now, though, they hinted at the start of a cycle that, if they weren’t very, very careful, might never end.

“He fucking planned this, Baile. He planned _everything._”

Baile looked away, processing, mind turning circles over this fucking thing that couldn’t just damn well be _over._

Eddie’s plan was a bad one. It was awful, on all counts, and going along with it would be the absolute worst decision of their career.

“Why can’t we send someone else in?” They knew there was an answer. Eddie always had an answer.

“They’re not going to let anyone else in at this point. Michael’s fucking mother could walk up and they’d turn her away.”

“So why would they let you into the secret? You’re not exactly a model cult citizen, you didn’t even choose to be there.”

“I will have, though.” Eddie’s tone was grave. She knew full well how dangerous her plan was. “Better, even, I’ll have chosen to come _back,_ after a chance to get away. It might take a few days, but they believe in changes of heart. They’ll see this as a, kind of a repentance. A final choice to join them.”

The decision was creeping closer, like it knew Baile couldn’t fight it off much longer. “What makes you think they’ll even let you back? Why wouldn’t they just hang up the phone?”

Eddie shrugged. “Forgiveness is Her favorite virtue.”

Baile pressed on, unwilling to put down their sword just yet. “And you’re sure you can convince them? All of them?”

Eddie tilted her head a little to the side. She might have looked sly, if not for the sadness tucked behind her glasses. “There’s no way you haven’t seen my school records.”

“No,” Baile admitted. They tilted their own head, letting a little bit of curiosity through. “You’re that good?”

“Well, I’m nothing phenomenal. Not going to win any awards any time soon, but….” She met Baile’s gaze again, head on. “This, I can do.”

And Baile hesitated for a moment, and then they nodded. Just like that, the worst decision of their career was made, and they knew it, and they made it anyway.

“One question,” they said, as Eddie settled against the pillow behind her, relief etched on her face. The woman looked back towards them. “Why art history?”

Eddie smiled a small, nostalgic little smile, like she was remembering the good old days, even though they weren’t that old, and had been far from good. “I panicked a little on that one, didn’t I? That was Hayley’s major. First thing that came to mind.”

Baile nodded in understanding. Then they turned to leave. “I’ll go get your things from the nurse. We’d better do this before Crowley wakes up and answers my call.”

They already had a hand on the door when Eddie spoke. “Thank you, Baile.”

Their hand tightened on the knob, but they didn’t turn around. “Are you really sure about this? Your family—”

“—is probably pretty high on the list of targets for whatever they have planned. They’ll be okay for a few more weeks. This is more important than me.”

Baile let out a sigh. “Okay, then.” And they left the room.

***

They didn’t go far. Eddie hadn’t even wanted Baile to drive with her, on the off chance Michael might show up early, but she’d given in on that front. She wouldn’t have given in on Baile sitting on the side of the road around the corner, so Baile didn’t bother asking. They were out of sight, on a street no one would use to get to the parking lot Eddie had agreed to meet at. She had given them a few hours before the meet-up, enough time to get her discharged (although the doctor had _not_ been happy about it) and retrieve her beat up old clunker from the police station. It was also long enough that Baile couldn’t use the timing to figure out how close the cult’s headquarters was. Eddie had done that intentionally, they were sure. It didn’t matter now, though. Now they all they could do was wait.

The clock on the dashboard clicked towards five, the sinking sun slowly leeching the color from the world. They would wait there until six, they told themselves. As close as they were, unless something went really wrong, they wouldn’t have any way to know what went down. If they got close enough to see, they were close enough to be seen. Close enough to hear was still too far to do anything, and more dangerous to boot. So they sat in the car on an empty suburban road and willed their phone not to go off, because if it did it would mean Eddie was in bad trouble, but at the same time… well, if it rang, at least they’d know something, right?

They waited. Idly, they wondered what to put in their report later. They couldn’t very well say that Eddie had escaped and come home, only to go right back to her kidnappers, with Baile’s help, no less. But they would have to say _something_. Even Baile Volante couldn’t be out of the office all day without a reason. Sitting around on a quiet street outside of London was, on the surface, wasted time, better used chasing down criminals or helping out in the precinct.

What were they doing, anyway? They should be working. _I can’t just leave Eddie._ But what else _were_ they doing? They’d left her in a parking lot with just a windbreaker and a bottle of antibiotics. That wasn’t helping. _It is. It’s the only way to make this work._ Okay, then, what about their other work? There were still leads to follow up on, and notes to look over, and they should have brought a folder to work through, what kind of a detective sits around doing fuck all when there’s a group of fucking murderous cultists at large and their partner out sick and a civilian going undercover and a serial killer waiting smugly in an interrogation room and—

That was when the call came over the radio.

***

“_—the fuck do ooh mead, ooh do’d know wheh Beelz is?_”

“Shit. We hoped you’d know.”

“Hode on, I’b od my way.”

“No, Crowley, just stay where you are.”

“Like hell I’w stay wheh I ab! Da’s my partner!”

***

The tires were still screeching as they threw open the door. “No one move!” they shouted across the parking lot, gun up in what they desperately hoped would only be a show of force.

Regardless of Baile’s hopes, Eddie looked like she’d already been shot. She stared at Baile, shock and fear scrawled in obscene lines on her face. “I—I don’t—” Terror broke through her confusion and she whipped around to the two people standing near her. “I—Michael, _Michael, I_—this wasn’t, this wasn’t supposed to happen, it—I swear, _I swear this wasn’t me!_”

“Eddie,” Baile said, keeping their eyes locked on the slim woman with brown curls piled into an updo. “Get in the car.”

“She set us up,” hissed the other person, this one dark skinned and short haired. They looked ready to start a fight, but the tall woman seemed more thoughtful.

“No, _no,_ Uriel, I didn’t, I—I _didn’t do anything—_”

Eddie still looked panicked, but Baile could see the change, now, had watched her do this over the phone in the hospital room. She was scared, yes, this wasn’t fake, but she was directing it, bending her own emotions to match the lies.

“_Eddie._” Baile knew they might be running out of time, that this could go horribly, irreversibly wrong at any moment. “Get in the car. _Now._”

For the second time in her life, Eddie stared at Baile down the barrel of a gun and put up a fight. “No. No, Baile, you don’t understand.”

Uriel practically snarled. “_Liar!_” They took a step forward, and Baile shifted their aim to them, but then Michael put her hand out. It was a gentle movement, calm and collected, but it stopped Uriel in their tracks, and they retreated, still glaring daggers.

Michael’s head dropped to one side as she studied Eddie for a moment. Finally she straightened, and reached out towards the younger woman’s shoulder.

“_Don’t._” Baile warned, gun once again pointed at Michael. “Don’t. Touch her.” The slim woman pulled her hand back and regarded Baile with unnervingly steady eyes. There was something familiar in her stare, and a damp chill settled in their gut. This woman knew Gabriel. This woman had _worked_ for Gabriel. “Eddie. Get. In. The car.”

She was fighting off tears and _still_ looked ready to say no, when Michael cut in. “Go,” she said, her tone mild.

Eddie lost her struggle not to cry. “No,” she said, her voice cracking at the edges. “No, Michael, I _swear_ I didn’t know.”

Michael turned her serene face towards her. “I know. I believe you, Edith. Forgiveness is Her favorite virtue. But, for the moment,” she looked back towards Baile, “our options are limited. Go with them.”

Eddie’s shoulders shook as she looked between them.

“Eddie.” Baile tried to make their voice softer. They weren’t sure it worked, but the young woman started to walk towards them, throwing glances over her shoulder as if she were asking Michael if she was sure. For her part, Michael’s expression never changed, looking on stoically. Uriel watched from over her shoulder, more controlled now, almost matching Michael’s calm.

Baile’s blood ran cold to think there was a whole group of people like this at large.

Eddie reached the car, not speaking, just trying to keep her crying quiet. Baile didn’t dare turn to look at her, keeping their aim and their gaze trained on Michael and Uriel. They heard the passenger door open, the shuffle of denim on leather, and the slam of Eddie pulling the door closed. They did not relax an inch.

“Neither of you better move,” they called to the pair in front of them. They would have to risk leaning into the car to get their radio and call for backup. It would give the cultists a chance to get away, but at least Eddie was in the car now. At least she wouldn’t be—

Something heavy slammed into their back and they hit the pavement hard, gun flung into the air by the pull on their shoulder. They felt their jaw connect. Fuzzy grey stars filled their vision. Static swelled in their ears. They could feel the burn of asphalt on their hands and knees and chin, and tried to push back up, to get to their feet, but their brain couldn’t seem to send the message.

Through the buzz shadowing their hearing they made out the thumping of running footsteps at their side, then ahead of them.

“Uriel! Take the other car!” shouted a voice, they—shit, they should know that voice, that was… Michael, that was Michael. _That was Michael._ Which meant—

They managed to push their upper body off the ground, just in time to see Uriel peel out onto the street in the beat-up clunker. They were only getting onto their knees as Eddie sprinted the last few steps to Michael’s car. As soon as the door was yanked closed behind her, Michael took off after Uriel.

Baile shook off the last of the static in their brain and stumbled into the car. Their hands slipped on the door handle, blood oozing from where they’d scraped across the pavement. Their jaw ached, and was probably bleeding, too, but they shoved the car into drive and followed the other two speeding cars out of the parking lot.

Nothing was on their side. They had the supposed benefit of a siren and lights, but on such a quiet road, they weren’t much of an advantage. Michael and Uriel had two cars, which meant they could do twice as much to throw them off their trail. And, _they_ knew where they were going.

The greyness of dusk got darker, and the red taillights glowing down the road turned a corner a ways ahead. They followed, pushing the cruiser as fast as it would go, hoping, almost even _praying_ that their minute’s lead wouldn’t be enough, that they would catch up, that that call over the radio had been a mistake and everything would just _stop_.

They hadn’t seen either car for two curves in the road. Had there been side streets for them to turn onto? A patch of shoulder blocked from view that they could have pulled behind to throw them off? Had they made the wrong turn back at the last light? Or maybe—

Their phone rang, rattling in the dish below the radio. They reached for it, flicking it to speaker and never once taking their eyes off the darkening road.

“Hello?”

“Beelz! Thank fuck, wheh the hell awe ooh?”

“Crowley?” They heard rather than felt the rawness in their voice. They were so tired. God, they were so tired of this.

“Yeah. A’h ooh okay?”

Heat burned under their eyes, and they didn’t have the energy to stop their words from shaking. “Tell me you got something. Tell me they found him.”

Crowley could hear their tears, they knew it, felt it in the way he hesitated. “Nod yet.”

Not yet. Not ever.

“I’ll be there soon,” they gasped out, and hung up before he could start to pity them.

They pulled over a few miles back the way they came. Nobody really notices a police car on the side of the road. Not past the chance of a speeding ticket, anyway. Not enough to look through the windows and see the person crying inside.

The radio crackled. “All vehicles, report back to your stations. We’re widening the search grid. Any sign of trouble, call it in. No one goes after him alone. We don’t know how he got out yet, but we have to assume that the Messenger is armed and extremely dangerous. I repeat. The Messenger is likely armed, and extremely dangerous.”


End file.
